Diaries, Bloody Battles, and Other Such Stuff
by evolo
Summary: [FINISHED] Harry accidentally reads Hermione's diary. Hermione accidentally confesses that she loves Harry. Harry disappears and reappears seven years later to kill Voldie. Seriously, it's better than it sounds. HHr. Ish.
1. Prologue

October of 1997 was unusually humid at Hogwarts. The summer had been hot too, but it reached new levels in late September. Water was permitted and encouraged in every classroom (except, of course, Potions) and Flitwick even charmed the glass in the windows to blow a breeze in every room, including dorm rooms. Despite the wind, Gryffindor seventh-year Harry Potter always woke with a start, sweating and frightened.

He stood at the window, clutching a goblet of water. His large, emerald green eyes were troubled as he stared up at the crescent moon. Everything in his life was falling apart. Voldemort had disappeared and hadn't been seen since May. Dumbledore was aging and his health was deteriorating. Ron was fighting with Harry again and Harry couldn't figure out why. And Hermione…well, she was going crazy. She was Head Girl, was taking all NEWT classes, and as a co-founder and vice-president of Dumbledore's Army she had more responsibilities than most Hogwarts students. Harry hadn't seen her so tired since third year, when she had the Time Turner. Still, she seemed to be keeping up, even though she was more snappy than usual.

Harry set down his goblet and grabbed his glasses and a book. He slipped silently out of the boys' dorm and downstairs into the common room. He spotted Dobby, a house elf, fluffing up a pillow on the couch.

"Hello, Dobby," Harry said.

"Harry Potter!" said the elf, bowing low to the ground. "Dobby has not seen Harry Potter in such a long time, sir, such a long time…"

"Haven't seen you for a while either, Dobby. How's life? How's Winky?"

"Dobby is good, sir, thank you. Winky is improving. She had started cleaning again, sir, and we house elves think that it is about time, sir, for it has been three years."

"No kidding." Harry sat down in the chair by the fireplace. Dobby finished fluffing the pillow, gave another low bow, and left. Harry opened his book and began reading.

**Hello Kate, it's me. I think I may be losing it. I can't lose it though because Harry's depending on me. He and Ron are fighting again. Ron's furious because Harry has all the weight of the world on his shoulders and has to carry it alone. He won't let either of us help him. I know he wants to but he can't because of the silly prophecy, and Ron can't accept that. He wants to be useful. I know, if he wants to be useful he should help me in some smaller chores. Being Head Girl is not as easy as it seems. There's so much planning involved in everything. I have to keep my marks far above average, and that's getting harder and harder to do. Occasionally I find myself thinking, "Alright, that's it. You're done. You've done your best for nearly seven years. Just stop. Relax. Flow."**

"What am I reading?" Harry murmured in surprise. He hadn't looked at the book when he picked it up; he assumed it was a school book. But this clearly wasn't. It looked like Hermione's diary. But who was Kate? Harry closed the book and set it on the end table beside him. He couldn't help but be curious of what else was in there, and now he knew why Ron was upset with him…he grabbed the book and flipped to a page near the beginning.

**G'day Kate! Beautiful day today. Flitwick charmed the windows to blow a breeze on us! I wonder what spell he used; perhaps he'll teach it to us. Oh, but that's not all. Things were normal between the three of us today. We chatted and went for a walk to Hagrid's and visited with him for a while. Then we walked around the castle and at seven we had our DA meeting. Harry's such a wonderful teacher. Honestly, he should be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here! He's so patient with all of the students. You can't call me crazy for this; any other girl who knew him like I do would—**

"Harry? What are you doing up?"

Harry slammed the diary shut and looked up at the stairs. Hermione stood mid-stairway, clutching her nightgown and blinking sleepily.

"What's that?" she asked.

"N-nothing," Harry said, trying to hide the book. "What are you doing down here?"

"I thought I heard voices. Who were you talking to?"

"Dobby."

"Alright…Harry, let me see that book."

"No, you really don't need to!" Harry said, climbing behind the chair. Hermione came down the stairs to stand near him. "You really don't need to see this book, Hermione—"

"Well, you obviously don't want me to see it, so of course I'm curious. What's so bad that you can't share with me? Is it a diary?"

"You could say that," he replied slowly, shifting so that the book was out of her sight.

"Not another enchanted one, right?" she asked, the familiar sparkle coming back into her brown eyes. "I'm not sure I want to be Petrified again, Harry."

"No, it's not enchanted."

"Well, that's good. Speaking of diaries, have you seen mine? I misplaced it today after Charms, I suppose…it's brown and quite plain, but it has my initials in silver near the bottom."

"Never seen it." Harry was alarmed to hear his voice raise an octave in panic.

Hermione's eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. "Do you have my diary behind your back, Harry?" she asked quietly, sounding horrified.

"No," he said, staring at her feet. He couldn't look at her face.

"Harry James Potter—"

"What are you middle-naming me for?"

"Is that my diary in your hand?"

Harry didn't reply. Averting his gaze, he slowly handed her the book. She took it, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, this changes everything, doesn't it?" she said. A tear fell down her face and landed on the book.

"No!" Harry said quickly. "I didn't get far, Hermione, honest! Only the day where Flitwick charmed the windows."

Hermione's shoulders began to shake. She leaned against the chair and buried her face in her hands. "So you know, then. About my feelings."

"Well, I'm flattered, but I really wouldn't make a good professor, Hermione. I'm a bad influence."

She let out a tiny hiccough. Harry grabbed the box of tissues from a nearby table and handed her one. She dabbed at the tears and wiped her face. "Thanks," she said. "But…you don't know, then?"

"There's more?"

"So much."

"Then no. But who's Kate?"

"Kate was my grandmother's name. She died when I was seven. I have so many fond memories of her…when I write in my diary, I write 'Dear Kate' instead of 'Dear Diary'. It makes it more personal and realistic."

"I see. Well…I'm going to go to bed…I guess my little bout of insomnia is gone. I hope it is." He smiled at Hermione and headed for the stairs. Hermione remained below, clutching her diary to her chest. She looked as though she really wanted to say something to Harry, but was held back by some sort of spell. "Good night," Harry called down.

"Harryiloveyou."

Harry, who had been watching Hermione instead of where he was going, ran into the door and fell back. He did not just hear Hermione say…what she had just said…did he? No, Hermione had just said "Harry good night" and he had misinterpreted it. He stood and brushed himself off. He would say "Good night, Hermione" again and she would reply with "Good night, Harry" and this whole thing would be forgotten. It was a good plan. It was a great plan. He'd do it.

"Er…what?"

Bugger!

Hermione sat down in the chair and cried openly. "Oh, I knew I shouldn't have opened my mouth! I knew I'd say that! Oh, Hermione, you are so…stupid!"

"No, no, no…" Harry rushed down the stairs and grabbed the box of tissues again. "No, you're not stupid. Don't ever think you're stupid Hermione, because if you think you're stupid then the rest of us might as well give up entirely. Don't cry. Please."

It was weird, Harry thought, that when Cho was bawling all over him two years ago, he could pat her on the back and comfort her vocally. With Hermione it was different. Ordinarily he could give her a "I'm-Your-Friend-I'm-Here-For-You" hug and encourage her and tell her that she was in the right. Now it was just…awkward. He didn't know what to do.

"So…since when?" he asked, and envisioned himself slamming his head against a wall later for asking.

"Fourth year, during the first Triwizard Task. I saw you flying around that dragon and I just…knew."

"Where you ever planning on telling me?"

"No."

"OK. Does Ron know?"

"Ron doesn't even know his own feelings. How is he supposed to know about mine?"

"Fair enough. Does anyone else know?"

"Not that I know of. I hope you're not angry with me, Harry."

"Of course not. But you were right…everything's different, I suppose…But hey, look at me." He tilted her chin up so that they made eye contact. "I'm still Harry Potter. And you're Hermione Granger. You're my best friend, and you always will be."

She smiled weakly, fresh tears welling up. Harry pulled her up and gave her a quick hug. "I won't tell anyone anything," he promised.

"Thank you."

"Nothing will change."

"Good."

"I'm going to bed."

"OK."

"Good night."

"Good night."


	2. The Final Fight

**Chapter One - The Final Fight**

Hermione's heart broke when Harry disappeared in June of 1997. And for seven years after, Voldemort had reigned supreme. Dumbledore was long dead, the Weasleys were slaves for the Malfoys, and Hermione was with all the other "Mudbloods" at auctions across Europe. When Harry emerged from darkness, it was very brief – a mere two months. He never said where he had been. But even his mysterious return – more mysterious than his disappearance – had given everyone hope. The Muggle-borns and half-bloods began forming plans for a revolution. The Weasleys escaped from the Malfoy Manor and joined Hermione.

Even two years later, the memory of seeing Harry again was vivid in Hermione's mind. She could see his bright green eyes behind those glasses, his messy black hair not quite covering his lightning scar. He was different, though. He had a definite aura around him that was visible to everyone, not just Seers. It was a dark bottle green, and each day it grew thinner.

_"Hermione?"_

_I always hear his voice. Always. But this time it's different. It's so much clearer and closer…_

_"Hermione…it's me, Harry."_

_I know, Harry, I know._

_"Look at me, Hermione. Please."_

_I look toward the voice. For a split second, my spirits lift. I think I see Harry…but it can't be. Harry's gone. Harry's dead. He has been for seven years, Hermione, and he is not coming back._

_"I'm real." He touches my face gently. And I can feel warmth._

_I say nothing. I move closer to him and take his hands in mine. They are lifelike…so warm. I look into his eyes and touch his face. There are tears in his eyes. Harry never cries in my dreams._

_"You're real," I say hoarsely, believing it with all my soul. "Harry Potter…you're back."_

_They kept him hidden from the Death Eaters, keeping him in large crowds. Every night he'd stay with Hermione, talking about old times, happy times…Hermione was feeling human again. Harry even managed to get them wands._

_"Hermione…there's something I have to say. I've been waiting to say this for seven years." He sighs nervously and I wait. "I…I'm in love with you. I guess…I suppose I always have been, but it just took seven years in hell to figure it out."_

_"Hell?"_

_"Not literally," he says, and very gently kisses me. And then he pulls back, embarrassed._

_"I love you," I say, and, cupping his chin in my fingers, pull his face toward mine._

Hermione didn't see the battle between Harry and Voldemort. No one did. They had their own battles to fight against the Death Eaters. The Weasleys, after escaping the Malfoys, fought beside Hermione. She and Ron were separated from them, and Hermione had to bear the pain of having Ron die in her arms from the wand of Draco Malfoy.

_"Don't leave me now, Ron!"_

_"Hermione…"_

_"Please, Ron, stay with me."_

_He's done. His open eyes are lifeless. Tears silently falling, I close them gently and place him on the ground._

_"How touching, Mudblood," Malfoy says, grinning. I stand up, clutching my wand. "I'm sure you do not want to suffer the same fate as dear old Weasel-king. I give you a choice, Granger: choose me, or die."_

_I narrow my eyes, disbelieving. "I love Harry," I say. Malfoy inhales sharply, leaning back a bit._

_"I knew it," he says coldly. "I always knew it, Granger."_

_"Why would I choose you? You, who made our lives miserable. You introduced me to darkness, Malfoy. And then you destroy everyone and everything I care about! I would rather die a thousand deaths than be Mrs Draco Malfoy."_

_"I can easily arrange that! **Avada**—"_

_"NO!"_

_There is a white flash, and Malfoy is knocked off his feet and is slammed into a rock. I can hear his skull crack, and I know he is dead._

_"Hermione," Harry says. His scar is bleeding and he's covered in mud and blood._

_"Harry!" I throw my arms around his neck, not ever wanting to let go. "Harry, Malfoy killed Ron…"_

_"Hermione," he says again. It's like he didn't hear me. "Hermione, I love you with all of my heart and soul."_

_"I know, but Harry, Ron's dead…"_

_"I see Ron…he's with my parents…and Dumbledore."_

_"What?"_

_"They're standing right there, right behind you. Can't you see them?"_

_I turn around and to my great surprise I can see a tall, gold-framed mirror. It's slowly becoming clearer and opaque. And then it's right there, right in front of me. I can't see what Harry sees; I see myself as a teenager, sitting and laughing with Harry and Ron. I lean closer to the mirror, trying to get a closer look._

_"The Mirror of Erised," Harry says. "I show not your face but your heart's desire. Hermione, I have to leave."_

_"What?" I look back at him. Now, finally, he is looking back at me. Before my eyes, he begins to change. The blood and dirt seems to evaporate and his clothes repair themselves magically. He stands taller and is smiling. The aura that surrounded him is completely gone._

_"I love you," he says, kissing me one last time._

He went over to Ron and picked up his body; he walked through the mirror and for a moment Hermione could see him and Ron looking back at her and waving. Then the mirror faded and they were gone. Her knees began to shake, and then they gave out completely. She buried her face in her hands and cried.

Ginny Weasley finally found her. Hermione was curled up where Ron's body had been. She had cried herself to sleep. Ginny woke her gently, and Hermione told her that Malfoy had killed Ron. She then told her that there was an explosion and she'd been knocked unconscious. Ginny knew that she was lying, for she could see it in her eyes, but she did not question Hermione.

_"I love you, Harry."_

* * *

_A/N: The story ended up "writing itself" differently than I planned. Though I must say I like this depressing version better. And hopefully you're familiar with Ragtime._


	3. Burial

**Chapter Two - Burial**

**Couldn't hear no music,  
Couldn't see no light.  
Mama, she was frightened,  
Crazy from the fright.**

Hermione was a different person. After Ron died and she lost Harry for the second time, she fell apart. She was living in an old cabin in the deepest area of the woods. She drifted away from the Weasleys and all other contact and never told a soul her secret – a last reminder of Harry: a tiny baby boy who looked just like him in every way, except for the lightning scar. But it was not his green eyes or his messy black hair that reminded her of him. It was his hands. Even at his age, less than two, he had Harry's hands: small, with long, slender fingers that were slightly pointed. Hermione loved him more than anything else on earth, but at the same time she would try to reject him. He was Harry to her, and knowing that Harry could never know his son broke her heart more than anything else.

The day came when the dam blocking her pain burst. Hermione fell to her knees and screamed as loudly as she could. She pulled on her hair, nearly tearing it out of her scalp. She beat the ground with her fists. Tears poured down her thin, almost-lifeless face. And she continued to scream.

"I can't do this anymore!" she yelled to the air. "I can't do this! I hate it! I HATE IT!"

Her throat was burning. Her voice was fading – she had not spoken for ages, and was not used to such an outburst.

It began to rain. The baby was crying. Hermione's screaming had woken him and scared him badly. He was afraid of thunderstorms and was now rattling his broken-down crib. Hermione went over to him and picked him up, holding him close.

"It's you," she whispered. "I can't bear being with you."

**Tears without no comfort,  
Screams without no sound.  
Only darkness and pain,  
The anger and pain,  
The blood and the pain!**

She took him outside. Almost immediately they were soaked through. The baby was in hysterics by now. He squirmed in Hermione's arms, trying to get back inside. She held him tightly, not willing to let him go.

There was a hole in the front yard under the tallest pine tree. It had been there when Hermione arrived, and she had found no use for it. But now…now…

Hermione paused in front of the hole. The baby had stopped crying now and was shivering. For a while, the old Hermione came back:

_What are you doing?_

"Getting rid of Harry altogether," she answered through gritted teeth.

_Would he want this?_

"I don't know. I can't ask him. He's DEAD."

_You love him, don't you?_

"With all of my heart. But he's gone."

_No, he's not. You have the best part of Harry with you._

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, and placed the freezing baby in the hole. He looked up at her and held out his hands pleadingly.

"Mama," he said. It was his first word. Hermione tore her gaze away and ran back into her house.

**I buried my heart in the ground!  
In the ground-  
When I buried you in the ground.**

_He's his father in every way, Hermione._

"I know!"

_You love him more than you love Harry._

"I know…" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

_So do what Harry would want you to do._

Hermione hesitated. How could she go back? Harry would never forgive her, and neither would his son.

**God wants no excuses.  
I have only one:  
You had your daddy's hands.  
Forgive me.  
You were your daddy's son.**

She ran outside to the hole and picked up the baby. The tears were flowing down her face again as she carried him inside and got him into dry clothes. He was still shivering. Hermione changed her own clothes and held the baby close, warming him as much as she could. Eventually he stopped shivering and his breathing became regular. Relief and love for Harry's son washed over Hermione in a giant wave. She lay with him on her little bed, the blankets tucked up to their chins, and kissed the top of his head.

_"I will do what's best for him."_

_

* * *

__A/N: Very short chapter. But very difficult to write. If you haven't heard the song "Your Daddy's Son" from Ragtime, go buy the soundtrack or something and LISTEN TO IT. It's beautiful and sad. And for all you lawyers…um…I make no profit from Daddy's Son and…my compliments to the composer._


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Neville Longbottom was having a very pleasant dream. In it, he was eleven years old and a very powerful wizard. He was not afraid of Severus Snape, his old Potions professor at Hogwarts, and was currently suspending the professor upside-down by his wand while making his hair randomly change colours.

Yes, life was good.

"NEVILLE!"

He woke with a shock and leapt out of bed, instinctively grabbing his wand off the bedside table.

"Gin?" he called to his wife, Ginny, who was downstairs.

"Neville…" her voice had softened and was not so panicky. "Neville, come here."

Neville hurried down the stairs and saw Ginny standing in the kitchen. She was holding a thick bundle of clothes. "What's wrong, Gin?" he asked, yawning.

"Look, Neville." She came to him and showed him the bundle.

"It's…a baby…" Neville gasped. "But baby-delivering storks went extinct ages ago!"

Ginny laughed. "Yes, I know. No stork delivered him. But Neville…do you recognize him?"

Neville peered at the baby closely. His large, green eyes were slowly opening as he woke, and he stared at the couple curiously.

"My god," Neville breathed. "He's the spitting image of Harry."

"There's a note." Ginny nodded toward the kitchen table. Neville picked it up and read it.

I love him with all of my heart. I am doing this for his sake. Take care of him.

"Who's it from?" Neville asked, flipping it over to look for a name.

"I don't know…but for some reason I think it's from Hermione."

"Hermione Granger? I thought she was dead."

"So did I, but…he's lovely, isn't he? What should we name him?"

"Ron." Neville kissed his wife's cheek and they both stared down lovingly at their new son.

* * *

_Finished! Short and...sweet? Err...yes well, it was supposed to be completely different. There was supposed to be a Draco-in-a-chicken-suit scene, but it wrote itself differently. Draco-the-chicken will be in my next story. I PROMISE._


End file.
